The late Jose Saramago was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1998. A native of Portugal, he wrote about 30 books. Given his pedigree, I was curious to read his 1995 novel,
Blindness, which was among a recent batch of a donation to the floating book shop. I was disappointed. The story is simple. People begin going blind, seeing not darkness but whiteness. In the city that is the focus of the narrative, only one person can see, ironically an eye doctor’s wife. Society breaks down. The woman becomes the caretaker of a group of seven. It is bleak, unflattering to humans. I was immediately reminded of
The Walking Dead, although there are no zombies present. The works share the same dismal view of mankind. If there is a point to
Blindness, I fail to grasp it. No one would deny that life is tough, at times brutal, especially for those trapped in certain societies. And it often seems as if we’re stumbling around in the dark, blind to the mystery of life. It seems the author is saying only a worldwide catastrophe would create equality. As someone who enjoys the fruits of western Democracy, I disagree. There is so much to be joyful about. Saramago’s bio at Wiki says he was an atheist, which, at least in light of this book, is not surprising. He described himself as a “libertarian Communist,” which, given the history of Communism, seems a contradiction in terms. Perhaps he was one of those intellectuals who always lamented that the problem wasn’t Communism itself but the fact that the wrong Communists were always in charge. It is difficult to criticize the style of a work translated from another language, but I hated the writing of this one. It features long paragraphs where several people speak, and there are no quotation marks to provide clarity. I'd guess this is intended as an "all is one" view. None of the characters is ever named. Instead they are referred to as "the girl with the dark glasses" or "the old man with the eye patch." It is a tough read. 619 users at Amazon have rated it, forging to a consensus of 3.9 of five. Some dub it a masterpiece. I disagree. I rate it 2.5.
RIP golf great Billy Casper, 83, who for some reason never got the recognition he deserved. He won 51 tournaments, including three majors, but was rarely mentioned among his elite contemporaries, the big three: Palmer, Nicklaus and Player.
Last night I went to bed wondering if I’d wake up in the morning, if a stroke was on the way. I was in significant pain and felt a headache burgeoning. This has become something I’ve begun to think about more frequently, although, fortunately, it doesn’t cost me any sleep. I have lived to fight another day. I felt much better after I returned from my morning walk, the headache gone. Suddenly, the pain in my back, hip and left leg has subsided. I hope it’s not one of the body’s tricks or the three ibuprofen finally kicking in. Now my neck is bothering me.
Although it was damp, conditions were adequate for the floating book shop. My thanks to the people who made purchases. The day was highlighted by cameras. A beautiful 20-year-old woman, a writer just starting out, asked to take my picture. I was so mesmerized by her lovely blue eyes I neglected to ask her name. Neil of
Della Peppo Village, a madcap show on Public Access, came by at two, and recorded an interview about the books that weren't covered in our first talk, which may have been as far back as 2008. And he bought
A Hitch in Twilight. Thank you, sir.
Vic's 3rd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Web Site:
http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/
